When I was in high school, my mom and I threw all kinds of dinner parties.
OK, she threw the parties and I helped with the cooking. Our go-to entree was veal scaloppini. I liked it no matter how we cooked it. At the time it seemed so fancy. Now I realize that it was all about the sauce. In its velvety blandness, veal really is little more than an excuse for sauce, a cake in search of frosting.
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